For When Words Fall Short
by riesling
Summary: Hardly a day went by when one Guardian or another would not succumb to the Darkness. It was commonplace; to fight, to die... As sure as the Darkness continuing to press in against Earth's last city. Before, she'd never really given it much of a thought. Now, she couldn't lead her mind to anything else. She'd never regretted letting herself love him. Never before today...


**Author's Note** :: Alright, now I'm in a Destiny kick… writing almost-angst and wondering why in the world I can't get back to concentrating on my original work again. Hopefully getting some of this out will help, no?

Also - I normally write romance for the ladies; being female, I think I have a pretty good grasp of what these stories I write read like from a woman's perspective. So if there are any men out there reading this - I'd be particularly interested in your critique of my my male characters in these types of situations.

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**Disclaimer** :: All credit to Bungie. I'm simply borrowing for a bit the things that you recognize – but I guess the character personalities are original.

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**For When Words Fall Short**

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She was seated at the bar, her gaze focused just past the bottles that lined the smooth oak cabinets behind the barkeep. She wasn't focused on any one of them, those bottles, in particular. Her gaze was of a more internal nature and her jaw was clenched subconsciously. Strong hands hidden behind thick grey gloves absent-mindedly spun the glass in careful circles where it rested on the tall bar top before her.

Light sea green eyes flashed some emotion that was caught between murderous intent and bitter anguish. But if any of the Guardians around her had noticed, they made no comment.

Hardly a day went by here when one Guardian or another would not succumb to the Darkness. It was commonplace; to fight, to die. As sure as their world would keep turning, that the Darkness would continue to press in against them if left to its own devices.

Before, she'd never really given it much of a thought.

Now, she couldn't lead her mind to anything else.

Bringing the glass to her lips, she poured it back, shivering for the feeling of cold ice against her teeth. It was liquid fire, a smooth burn rushing down her throat. And the warlock considered the similarities between the way her whiskey would light her up, an internal fire, and the way it felt to rise from the dead, engulfed from inside out in bright waves of solar light. Neither sensation was entirely unlike the way he'd made her feel when her body was pressed firmly beneath his.

She smirked, dropping the empty glass on the bar.

Him.

The handsome Awoken Hunter who had stolen her heart like it had been no more difficult a feat than reloading his hand cannon, throwing his knife. And for all her best efforts she'd put up to resist his advances, it had been for his persistence that she'd finally decided to let him in. Or it might have been his midnight black hair, strong jawline, and the hypnotizing silver-grey eyes that pierced straight through every wall she'd ever thought to construct to keep him out. Maybe it had been his strong hands or the cocky smirk he'd have as reply for any concern she ever thought to pay his well-being.

Regardless of reason, however, she'd never regretted her decision to fall in love with him.

Never before today.

"Another, Farinha?" the barkeep asked, already reaching for a fresh glass and the now near-empty bottle of whiskey he'd been serving her from for the better part of that evening.

She considered the man before her carefully behind green eyes glazed from her drink, lidded from lack of sleep and all the hopeful worry she'd been careful to never let cross to doubt. Because he'd be home – he would always come home… She ran a shaky hand through her honey-blonde hair, cropped short and falling in straight layers around her high cheekbones. And then she agreed, "Yeah, another."

He'd had to have seen this before, the barkeep. A Guardian come to drown the loss of a Fireteam Leader, a friend, a lover… perhaps so many times that now he was numb to whichever reaction drunken sorrow might later manifest itself. So Anna Farinha was grateful when he looked past her and paid little mind whatsoever to discerning the reason she'd bought half a bottle of his whiskey and set to the quiet, careful task of slowly drowning herself with it.

There was no sympathy, no empathy in the way he looked at her.

She was just another Guardian and this was just another day.

The world hadn't stopped turning just because it felt like hers was falling apart.

'Damn you, Nystrom,' her mind raged as she took the glass that was placed before her. She had long since moved past the sarcastic phase of her shock where she might have picked apart all of the more dangerous mannerisms that could have been responsible for whatever mistake had gotten him killed. And she no longer blamed him for going. They were Guardians – wherever the Vanguard sent them they would go without question.

It had been three days since his expected return and the warlock, up to this particular moment that now found her alone at the bar, had been hopeful as she denied what was a blatant, inevitable truth. She'd been persistent against all sense of reason, against all her better judgement. She closed her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh, and took another drink as she mentally cursed, 'Damn you for making me so weak.'

Anna felt a shuffle of movement from beside her and then, "Why so down, Warlock?"

The Awoken Titan had slid his forearm in front of her place at the bar, leaning his weight against it while he looked admiringly down at Anna where she sat. His grey armor was almost the same hue as his skin and the warlock smirked; she could tell that he was still relatively young by all comparisons – his armor wasn't yet stained in blood. And if the look in his gleaming blue eyes was any indication, Anna could deduce that she didn't look nearly so bad on the outside as she felt on the inside.

"I'm not in the mood, Titan," she turned her gaze forward, back to the bottles at the back of the bar, and took a slow sip of her whiskey.

He leaned closer, turning to face the same direction that she had chosen; their shoulders brushed. He'd not taken the hint as he persisted, "Let me help take your mind off what's bothering you."

Her breath hitched in the back of her throat when she felt his hand on the small of her back and her eyes narrowed dangerously. She glared up at him, back straightening as her grip on the glass she held tightened. But with a deep breath, Anna turned her gaze back to the drink in her hand and laughed sarcastically, a cool and low noise in the back of her throat, "Best you not waste your time."

"C'mon," he urged, turning once more to face her. He was all cocksure and confident in his certainty that his persistence would win out in the end. He was practically standing on top of her, his left hand still resting on the small of her back. With his right hand, he cupped the warlock's chin, gently directing her gaze back towards him. He was still sure of himself when he asked, "What has such a pretty lady like yourself so upset?"

Anna batted his hand away from her chin with the back of her wrist and arched her back so that his hand would fall away from where it rested on her back, effectively breaking all contact between them. A small smirk had formed of her rose-colored lips but her pale green eyes, glimmering brilliantly in the beginnings of her drunkenness, shined a careful warning, "Leave it alone, Titan."

He laughed softly, Anna presumed in an attempt to hide his irritation that she should be so quick to wish herself rid of his company. He seemed to be the sort who wouldn't give up easily and the Warlock could only conclude that his mind was made up on her; she wouldn't be free from the annoyance of his presence without a fight, one she couldn't promise she would limit at just a verbal sparring match. He softened his approach, "Easy there, Warlock. I didn't mean to upset you. Let me buy you a drink and apologize."

She had just finished her whiskey.

Eyeing him curiously, she frowned before pushing the empty glass towards the barkeep. Her voice was a tone of careful indifference as she replied, "Thank you for the apology, Guardian, but I'll buy my own drink."

He'd dropped both of his hands to her waist, spinning her barstool so that she was now facing him with one leg on either side of where he stood, leaning forward so that their foreheads were nearly touching. Despite Anna's reflexes not being as sharp as they might have been, she was quick to bring both of her hands to rest on his chest plate, pushing firmly against him to restore a bit of comfortable space between them.

She practically growled in her frustration, angry beyond measure, "Take a hint, Titan. I'm not interested!"

Despite having to take a few steps backwards, the Titan's hands were still on Anna's waist as he smirked down at her, "Feisty little Warlock! Give me a chance – you're just not interested yet."

But at the same moment, a voice from beside Anna stopped her heart where it had been beating quickly against her rib cage, "Get your filthy hands offa my girl!"

She turned quickly, her breath catching in the back of her throat with pale green eyes widening at the sight of Louis Nystrom, her Hunter, standing beside her. He'd been missing three days but was obviously well as he smirked knowingly down at the elated Warlock, still perched between the two Awoken men. Surprise over her delicate features was quickly replaced with relief as she hurried off of her bar stool and into his open arms.

Trembling fingers laced through the raven locks of his hair, slowly finding his jawline to brush against the slight stubble there.

"Miss me, babe?" he teased, outwardly amused by her reception.

Her green eyes clouded, features sharpening as she smacked him square across the side of his face, "You bastard! What's the big ide-"

But the Hunter didn't let her finish. He pressed his lips over hers in a searing kiss, smiling into her mouth as his strong hands gripped her arms, pinning them at her sides lest she wish to lash out at him again. When he felt her relax, he wrapped his arms around her slender frame, pulling her forward and against his chest. And still he kissed her, even as her arms snaked around his waist, between his sandy-cream armor and the tattered cape he wore.

"Get a damn room, for fuck's sake!" Emerik, a human Titan and Louis' Fireteam Leader, snapped as he came to stand beside the pair of reunited Guardians. He pushed Louis aside as he made his way to the bar, not nearly as irritated by the pair of Guardians, still tangled up in one another, as he'd made it seem.

Anna extended her middle finger gracefully towards the ceiling, certain that Emerik had accepted her silent greeting when she heard his boisterous laughter booming from somewhere behind Louis.

Blindly feeling for the hand that had left his waist, Louis pulled away to stare down into the angelic face of his Warlock. Her cheeks were flushed from her drink and her lips were swollen from his kisses – he could honestly not remember a time that he'd been happier to be returned safe to Tower. When he did finally find her hand, he brought it to rest on the smooth surface of his chest plate, interlocking his fingers with hers. He smirked, "Whiskey, huh?"

"Piss off, Nystrom," Anna pulled away, glaring up at Louis. "You were late to the party. Don't blame me for starting without you!"

To the Awoken Titan still standing beside the pair of Guardians, Emerik chuckled, "You're lucky home boy got here when he did, kid. Whiskey makes our Warlock violent."

"Oh, fuck you, Emerik!" the Warlock snapped, turning to glare angrily up at the gruff looking Titan. "You promised to have him back three days ago!"

"Anna!" Louis caught her firmly by the waist, smirking as he pulled her struggling figure into his arms once more. He picked her up, placing her gently back on the bar stool where she'd been seated before he'd found her; careful to keep himself between her and Emerik. His voice was low and teasing when he scolded, "That's no way for a lady to talk!"

Her tone was sharp and she looked at him pointedly, "You're not completely off the hook, either, you know."

"Oh, I know, Warlock," he brushed a few strands of golden-blonde hair behind her ear. His silver-grey eyes were locked on hers of pale green.

"I was worried about you," she confessed in a whisper for only Louis to hear; her features softening as she buried her face in the place where his neck met his shoulder. He smelled like gunpowder and metal and Anna smiled when she felt him shiver against the place where she had started trailing soft kisses up his neck.

He closed his eyes, wetting his lips before he replied, "I'm sorry, Anna. I'll make it up to you."

"How?" she pouted, pulling away slightly to gaze up at him through dark eyelashes.

"I always think of something," he pressed his forehead against hers, letting his hands fall to her slender waist and find their way inside of the silvery blue coat she wore.

"It had better be something good, Hunter," she kissed him then, closing her eyes when his grip on her waist tightened possessively.

"You're going to be the death of me, woman."

"If only you could be so lucky," she teased. "It would be much easier for you to meet your end out in the Beyond."

"But so much less fun!" he growled into her ear, reveling in the sound of her laughter as he lifted her from her seat and hurried out of the bar.


End file.
